Uh Oh
by Satanira
Summary: It took me forever to come up with a title for this thing... Anyway, GWHP. The G-boys are sent to Hogwarts as exchange students. And between fire lizards, wandless magic, foreign familiars, and Duo Maxwell, Harry and the gang may not survive the year...
1. A Flashy Entrance

_Yes, I've started writing another story, when I promised myself I wouldn't until I'd gotten some work done on The Ties That Bind… But que sera, sera, as the saying goes.

* * *

_

Hermione noticed them first, of course.

They stood in a group near the entrance to the Great Hall, five boys and one girl. There was also a large wolf-like creature with them, as well as some sort of lizard and a large bird of prey.

"Harry, Ron," Hermione hissed, catching the attention of all the Gryffindors in her immediate vicinity. "Look over there."

The entire group obliged, craning their necks to see.

"Bloody hell!" One of the Weasely twins murmured, awestruck. "That's a kyree!"

"What's a kyree?" A newly-sorted first-year whispered, somehow sensing that whatever a kyree was, its presence warranted reverence.

"Kyree are magical constructs," Hermione said matter-of-factly for benefit of anyone else who happened to be lost. "They're part wolf and part African plains cat, and their natural habitat is dense forests in northern Japan. They're rarer than unicorns, and one deigning to be seen by so many humans is practically unheard of."

"Wow..." The first year said, his eyes still on the shaggy silver beast. "I wonder what it's doing here?"

"Your attention, please!" Professor Dumbledore called from the Head Table, and the excited conversations around the room ground to a halt. "Before we begin, I would like to welcome a few very special people to our school. Some of you may have already noticed them," He gestured towards the mysterious group across the Hall, and the entire student body turned as one in the direction he indicated.

As if in response to some silent cue, the group began walking down the center aisle amid much whispering. It wasn't just the fact that the group was new that drew comments, either, nor was it the animals.

In the lead was a small boy with a chestnut braid that fell almost to his knees and large, inviting violet eyes. He was dressed entirely in black, from his baseball cap to his boots. The bird of prey was perched calmly on his shoulder.

Next came another brunette, this one with bangs swept over one emerald eye in a unique style. He was dressed simply in brown boots, faded jeans, and a loose windbreaker zipped halfway up his dark shirt.

The only girl in the group kept a firm grip on the second brunette's arm, her black eyes round and frightened in her pale face. A waterfall of grayish-brown waves spilled down the back of her faded green dress to her elbows.

Half the female population of Hogwarts fell in love with the blond. He had a soft, kind face dominated by gentle aqua eyes and framed by wisps of straight, sunbleached hair. He wore khakis, a pink cotton shirt, and a purple vest, and looked damned good in the ensemble, too.

Behind the blond was a mean-looking boy with dark, slanted eyes and dark hair pulled into a low ponytail. He had well-defined muscles under his golden-tanned skin, and was dressed in the loose clothes of a martial artist. On his shoulder sat a miniature dragon, glowing golden in the candlelight. It moved restlessly, swinging its head this way and that, as if unused to being around so many humans at once.

Bringing up the rear was yet another brunette, this one with messy dark chocolate hair and hard, suspicious blue eyes. His clothing of choice consisted of dark blue jeans, a dark shirt, a black leather trench coat, and a pair of dark glasses pushed on top of his head. The kyree paced next to him, its wise ice blue eyes taking in everything.

When the six reached the Head Table, they ranged themselves behind the Headmaster, turning to face the Hall in a loose semi-circle.

"As some of you may know, there was talk last year of a foreign exchange program here at Hogwarts, much like those employed in muggle schools.

"Magic academies in other countries have agreed to, shall we say, a trial run, and these five gentlemen will be joining our third years in their round of lessons." Dumbledore paused a moment to let the rush of whispers die down before continuing. "They will be Sorted like any other student, and they will be assigned homework just like the rest of you, although you may find them to be ahead of you in some subjects and behind in others. They will be subject to a few special rules, but that's only to be expected in a situation like this."

The brunette with the bird leaned over and whispered something to the brunette next to him, who blushed and immediately launched into a coughing fit.

"Perhaps you would like to be Sorted first, Mr. Maxwell?" The Headmaster suggested mildly, turning to look at the first brunette.

"Well, Professor, if you really want me to, I will, but don't you think Trowa should go first? I mean, B comes before M, even if he is trying to hack up a lung."

"American," Hermione noted with some distaste. "Americans are almost as arrogant as Malfoy."

The dark-haired martial artist hissed something too low for the students to catch, and the American sighed theatrically.

"If you insist, Fei," He said, walking over to Professor McGonagall and the Sorting Hat.

The rim of the hat didn't even touch his head before it called out 'Gryffindor!'

"Woot!" The boy shouted, standing up. Careful not to disturb his bird, he hurried to the Gryffindor table and took a seat not far from Harry and the gang.

"Hi!" He said excitedly, transferring his falcon to the back of his chair.

The second brunette, having recovered from his coughing fit, went next. After a few minutes of thoughtful silence, the Sorting Hat directed him to the Ravenclaw table. The girl went with him.

The boy with the lizard was quickly sent to Slytherin, where he sat sullenly, glaring at anyone who attempted conversation.

Another long wait, and the blond was put in Hufflepuff, leaving only the boy with the kyree.

He moved towards the stool, scanning the room as he went; his eyes lingered on the Gryffindor table, especially the area around Harry and the American. He paused to whisper something to Professor McGonagall, who shook her head and whispered back before putting the Sorting Hat on the boy's head.

The Hat remained silent for a moment before grumbling, "Pushy, pushy, pushy. It's where you belong anyway. Gryffindor!"

The boy took the Hat off, dropped it on the stool, and stalked to an empty seat next to the twins; the kyree followed sedately, lying down behind the boy's chair.

"I hope you will all make our guests feel most welcome," Professor Dumbledore said with a smile. "Now please, stay away from the Forbidden Forest and enjoy your meal." With that, he sat down, and the traditional feast appeared on the tables.

"If you don't mind my asking, sir," Hermione said, turning to her newest housemate, "how is it that you acquired a kyree? I was led to believe that they had little use at all for humans."

"Then you've been led to believe the wrong thing." The boy snapped without looking up. After a moment, he sighed and put his fork down. "Kero says to apologize for snapping and to tell you that I didn't _acquire_ her, she _chose_ me."

"Is her name Kero, then?" One of the twins asked, twisting around in his seat so that he faced the kyree. "Would you like a plate, ma'am?"

"She says thank you for the offer, but she's full right now," The boy relayed, a strange accent becoming apparent the more he spoke. "My name is Heero. Heero Yuy. You would be a Weasely, ne?"

"Yup. The name's Fred." Fred replied, grinning. "This here's my twin, George, that's our little brother Ron, that's his girlfriend, Hermione-"

"She is not my girlfriend!" Ron interrupted.

"Fred!" Hermione shouted at the same time.

"- that's our little sister Ginny, Justin, Alicia, Lee, and that right there's the famous Harry Potter. Don't know who the git with the bird is."

"Hey!" The American protested, surging to his feet. "I am not a git, and Draco most certainly is not just a bird!"

"I never said Malfoy was a bird." Fred said, blinking. "Said your bird was a bird. What's your name?"

"Duo. Duo Maxwell. I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie. Who's Malfoy?"

"The twit in Slytherin trying to talk to his new housemate." Ron supplied helpfully, pointing with his fork. "You might want to steer clear of him."

"Why?" Duo asked curiously. "Is he mean? Is he stupid? Will he make me wanna kick his ass?"

"Probably all three," Harry said. "Depends on your temperament. All Slytherins are like that."

"O-okay..." Duo said dubiously, returning his attention to the mountain of food on his plate. "If you say so..."

* * *

Across the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy was currently the most frustrated he'd been in a long time. No one with half a brain would dare ignore him, Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy legacy, as if he were an annoying child; especially an Asian nobody with the stunning good luck to be Sorted into Slytherin.

Yet there was an Asian nobody right across the table doing just that, feeding his miniature dragon and ignoring everyone around him.

Giving up on conversation, Draco looked around to see how the other strangers had settled in so far, and was glad to see he wasn't the only one getting the cold shoulder.

At the Ravenclaw table, the brunette with the unabang spoke only to the girl with him; he limited interaction with the students to glares whenever someone so much as looked at him.

One of Gryffindor's additions sat silently, the conversation swirling around him like river water around a boulder, while the other boy chatted animatedly with Potter and his set.

And as for the blond... well, not a single girl in Hufflepuff wasn't staring at _him_. At least he had the good grace to blush a little, considering the attention he was getting.

A sudden angry hiss called Draco's attention back to his own table, where the tiny gold dragon mantled its wings at a female Slytherin nearby, radiating fury.

"What are you, onna? Stupid?" The Asian boy demanded, trying to soothe the dragonet. "Don't you know never to interrupt an animal while it's feeding? You're lucky she didn't tear your hand off!"

"But..." The girl protested, cradling one of her hands in her lap. "I-"

"You what? Fire lizards are _not_ domestic animals, onna! And queens are especially hostile!"

"Queen?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"Yes, queen." The boy spat, looking disgusted. "Don't you people know anything? Nataku is a gold, and therefore a queen! She's the pride of her clan, and she won't stand for a mere human female to touch her!"

"I...I'm sorry," The girl apologized softly. "I didn't realize..."

"Onna," the boy said, and Draco got the impression that 'onna' was not a polite term, "I couldn't care less what you did or did not realize. Now leave me alone." And with that, he turned back to his dinner, pointedly ignoring everyone around him.

* * *

_I have changed the storyline of Harry Potter a little. Instead of just beating MoldyWort up at the end of book 1, Harry killed him. Tom Riddle was likewise dispatched, and there is no more powerful evil wizard out to get Harry. That's why people feel secure enough to do the whole student exchange thing. I'm going to skip certain scenes from the book, since I don't want to re-write them when everyone already knows what happens. Instead, I'll leave a note, or allude to it later._

_And just a bit of a warning here: it may be a while between updates on this, because I have about ten other stories that I want to update first, like Death's Image, The Ties That Bind, Tangled Bonds, Voices, and so on and so forth. So don't throw a fit if I don't update this story every other day._


	2. Hippogriffs and Tea Leaves

_Chapter two, complete. No review replies because this is a double upload. Can't say update, because this is the first time I've put anything up for this story.

* * *

_

"I'm sorry, Songwind," Trowa said quietly. "I wasn't aware that there would be so many students here. You can leave now, if you want,"

Songwind, obviously uncomfortable, shook her head. "If you are here, then I will remain here," She told him, her voice even softer than his. "It would be unseemly for me to leave you in such company."

"Songwind, we aren't at home right now; there is no one to shout formalities at us if you don't want to sit in a hall full of strangers. Go visit that willow we saw on the way in, okay?"

Songwind raised her head, and her eyes sparkled brightly. "You promise not to tell my mother?" She asked. "She'd be very upset if she found out, and the last century has been hard enough on her."

"I won't tell." Trowa promised with a smile. "Go see if the willow will let you stay with her while we're here."

"Here now, you're not talking about the _Whomping Willow_, are you?" One of the Ravenclaw girls asked suddenly, dropping her fork. "You can't send her out in this cold to the Willow! She'll be torn to pieces!"

Trowa just looked at the girl, his expression unreadable.

"Obviously," He said slowly, to no one in particular, "students in England know absolutely nothing about the TreeKin. Else our very rude tablemate would know that no tree, spelled or otherwise, could ever hurt one."

"TreeKin? What's a TreeKin?" Another Ravenclaw student asked, suddenly interested in the conversation. "It sounds familiar..."

"Perhaps you would know them better as dryads or tree nymphs?" Songwind spoke up nervously. "TreeKin is the English translation of the phrase the French use to describe the spirits such as myself who are born of and dwell in trees,"

"You're a dryad?" The girl demanded, shooting to her feet. "No wonder you're so bloody beautiful!"

Trowa growled quietly to himself, muttering in French. He'd kill whoever put his name in the nominee box, he really and truly would.

"Please, Songwind," He whispered in the TreeKin tongue, a soft language that conveyed meaning more by tone and gesture than by words. "Go visit your sister. See if she'll let you stay with her."

Songwind nodded and stood, hurrying towards the heavy doors. Those at the other tables not too busy stuffing their faces watched her leave, then turned to the Ravenclaw table. Trowa's glare was sufficient to make them mind their own business.

For now, anyway.

* * *

Quatre was nervous. The school he'd gone to in Arabia had been a boys' academy, so he wasn't used to girls. They made him nervous. Hell, no sense being polite; they scared the living daylights out of him.

But he was gentleman, and no gentleman would come right out and say something like that. So he spent dinner red as a beet, fending off what had to be flirtations, until the other boys came to his rescue.

"M'name's David," One said, somehow placing himself between Quatre and the girl next to him. "Wha's yours?"

"Quatre," The blond said gratefully, shaking David's hand. "Quatre Reberba Winner. Nice to meet you,"

"Ya mean i's nice ta not 'ave fillies on all sides," David snorted. "I kin tell. Makes ya wonder 'ow a lass gets 'er work done, what with all th' flirtin' she does,"

A few girls glared, but most laughed as if this was a long-standing joke.

"Be fair, David, you do your share of flirting, sure as we do," One girl, a pretty brunette with straight, shoulder-length hair and wide blue eyes, spoke up with a giggle. "It's a wonder a girl can get her work done with you chasing her all over the castle!"

Quatre couldn't help but laugh as the girls, who had until moments ago been focused solely on him, turned their attention to David's skirt-chasing ways.

David took it in stride, pointing out that the brunette never actually tried to get away, and most of the others wanted him to chase them.

"Must do wonda's ta a girl's ego, th way I chase," He told them with an unrepentant grin. "After all, wha girl wouldn' want flowers an candy ev'ry day, and lil' gifs un'er 'er pillow most nights?"

"One of these day, you're going to wake up and find you've no one left to chase," one of David's fellow boys warned him. "Then what will you do?"

"Why, I'd 'ave ta chase th' colts, wouldn' I? B'sides, there's still a whole crop a firs' years ta woo!" David laughed before turning back to Quatre. "Don' let 'em fool ya, Quatre, this 'ere's a crafty lot, an' they all got 'ot blood in their veins, same's us. But they don' mean it, ya know? Jus' funnin',"

Quatre wasn't sure what exactly David meant, but he nodded anyway. It seemed he'd made himself a friend already, something he'd never been much good at.

* * *

"Do you have any idea how much fortune tellers in America make?" Duo demanded, climbing the stairs backwards so that he could talk to Ron and Harry. "We're talking hundreds of dollars _a reading!_ It's unreal!"

"Duo, please turn around and walk like a normal human being," Hermione pleaded. "I keep thinking you're going to overbalance and bowl into us."

"Would I do that?" Duo asked, smiling, although he did turn around. "And we're here!"

"Oh, joy," Hermione muttered sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Hermes, you are one sour girl,"

"Do not call me Hermes!" Hermione yelled, kicking Duo in the shin.

"Ow! That hurt, Hermes! Ow!"

"Calm down, Hermione," Harry said. "You said yourself; he's American. He doesn't know any better."

"I'm right here, you know. And the trapdoors open, so let's go up, shall we?" Duo suggested.

* * *

_And we'll skip the Divination lesson, because Trelawney gets on my nerves, even if I can spell her name right. All you need to know is Harry, supposedly going to die, Hermione doesn't like it, Duo thinks the teacher's a bit weird in the head,and Trelawney's about as stable as a baboon on crack.

* * *

_

Wufei decided to skip lunch. The last thing he needed was to deal with that annoying Malfoy brat when he was his most unfocused. So instead of going to the Great Hall with the rest of the students, he went outside.

It didn't take much wandering to figure out that the only things worth seeing were an enchanted willow, the Forbidden Forest, and a cottage. The TreeKin that had come with Barton was communing with the willow and the forest was off-limits, so that left the cottage.

Nataku close at hand, Wufei walked down the sloping lawns to the small house, looking it over carefully as he approached. There was a sizable garden, a large paddock, and an assortment of groundskeeping tools in sight. He'd almost reached the door before he saw them.

Hippogriffs.

They were wonderful specimens, with strong horses' rear legs, tails, and barrels, and eagle-like forelegs, heads, and wings. They ranged in type from the stocky English grays to an American palomino, to - wonder of wonders - a black Chinese stallion.

Wufei loved all magical creatures, but the one he held above the rest had always been hippogriffs. Only fire lizards had been able to top them, and he suspected that was only because of Nataku. This was the first time he'd seen a live hippogriff, and they definitely rated higher than fire lizards now.

He slipped between the rails of the paddock, unable to take his eyes off the magnificent beasts. He knew how to approach one, and also how to get away if it didn't like him. Nataku murmured nervously but stayed beyond the fence, sensing that Wufei wanted no distractions.

The nearest, and smallest, of the hippogriffs was a bay Arabian mare, and he moved slowly toward her, stopping a good distance away to await notice.

She finally raised her head, yellow eyes focusing sharply on him. She turned to face him, keeping him within her sights, while the other hippogriffs looked on curiously.

_Don't blink,_ he reminded himself. _Hippogriffs mistrust blinking too often, as it implies nervousness and agitation._ He bowed smoothly, keeping his eyes on her.

"Good afternoon, my Lady," he greeted her in Chinese, although the words more than likely meant nothing to her.

After a tense moment, the mare bent her forelegs in an acknowledging bow, and Wufei breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're magnificent, my Lady," He told her, moving forward one slow step at a time until he was close enough to touch her beak. He did so, gently, stroking it until she dropped her lids in pleasure and moved closer to him.

Then he put more strength in the caresses, moving his hand back to scratch beneath her thick neck feathers; the other, he brought up to her eye ridges. The pleasure points of hippogriffs were much the same as those on a fire lizard, although his books had advised against trying to get at a hippogriff's belly.

"Lovely. That's what you are, is lovely." He whispered, still speaking in his native tongue, as the fluid syllables seemed to soothe her. "Never could any mere horse or eagle compare to you, in flight or on the ground," He continued to murmur compliments and endearments until something hard and cold bumped against his arm.

The other hippogriffs were crowding around him now, wanting at the very least a scratch from him now that the - he now realized - alpha female had accepted him. The herding instincts of horses bred true in these creatures, save that a mare led in place of a stallion.

Laughing softly, Wufei complied, as the alpha female slipped away to make room for one of her followers. If he lingered overlong on the Chinese stallion, none of the others minded as long as he tended to them in their turn.

A warning bell sounded from the castle, and Wufei sighed regretfully.

"I'd love to stay with you, my beauties," He told them, running his hand up and down the beak of the American palomino, "but I've Care of Magical Creatures next, and I'm afraid I have to go find where it is. Forgive me." Slowly, carefully, he extracted himself from the knot of hippogriffs and bowed to them all. Rather than a full formal bow, each inclined its head and closed its eyes, a sure sign that they'd taken a liking to him.

He didn't realize he'd had an audience until he turned around.

"Well done, lad, well done!" The giant man on the other side of the paddock fence exclaimed, clapping softly. "Weren't sure what ta think, yeh in there with 'em all over yeh, but yeh done all righ'!"

"Thank you?" Wufei hazarded, not sure what to do now. He'd been caught redhanded where he knew he wasn't supposed to be, and all the adults here seemed to be teachers. He could very well get in trouble.

"C'mon then, out yeh go, best not disturb 'em." The man said, motioning for Wufei to climb out of the paddock. "Yeh'll be seeing more'f 'em soon, if'n yeh're the new boy'n Slyth'rin; they're the lesson fer Car o' Magical Creatures, they are."

"Then, you would be the Care of Magical Creatures instructor?" Wufei asked, slipping between the fence rails again. "Hagrid?"

"That'd be me, all righ'," Hagrid said, the movement of his beard suggesting a smile to match the one in his voice. "Ain't never seen tha' mare take t' no one like that b'fore," he continued, shaking his head in amazement. "Not e'en the man what I got 'er from could make 'er bow."

"I've been told I have a way with animals, sir," Wufei informed him, coming to the conclusion that he wasn't going to be reprimanded. "But I never imagined I'd be allowed to see hippogriffs here. We've barely any in China, and these are the first I've laid eyes on outside of pictures."

"If tha' was yer firs' time, 'M even more impressed!" Hagrid exclaimed, clapping Wufei on the shoulder with one ham-sized hand. The noise attracted the attention of one of the English grays and the Scottish chestnut, both of whom moved towards the source to investigate. Hagrid waved them off with an, 'all righ', all righ',' and they returned to lounging with the rest of the herd.

"I should be going now," Wufei told Hagrid, finding himself loath to leave the big man's company. "I have a feeling that my so-called housemates shouldn't see me here outside of lessons,"

"True," Hagrid agreed, not in the least offended. "Them Slyth'rin's got a mind t' see me out on th' street, like as not. Be best if yeh came back in with 'em,"

Wufei nodded, bowing gravely, then turned and walked back towards the palace, suddenly feeling much warmer towards this place.

* * *

_And Harry rides a hippogriff, Malfoy gets less than he deserves, and we're moving right along.

* * *

_

Heero pushed his bangs back in a gesture that had become more habit than anything else. That and that alone betrayed how nervous he was. He'd always been horrible at Potions, no matter who tried to teach him. He could only manage simple ones, not something as complicated as a Shrinking Solution.

Which is exactly what they were making.

Heero discovered to his surprise that he wasn't the worst student in the class, however. He actually found himself feeling quite sorry for one Neville Longbottom, a nervous-looking boy whom the professor seemed to enjoy picking on.

"Orange, Longbottom," Professor Snape was saying, making a spectacle of examining the color. "Orange. Tell me, boy, does anything penetrate that thick skull of yours?" From there, Snape went on at some length about what Longbottom, while the boy just stood there, turning red.

"Please, sir," a Gryffindor know-it-all named Granger said, "please, I could help Neville put it right-"

"I don't remember asking you to show off, Miss Granger," Snape informed her coldly, and Heero almost winced. He was liking this teacher less and less with every passing moment.

The potions had stewed, everything had been cleaned up, and now Snape was going after Longbottom again, using the potion on the poor kid's pet toad. The man was nothing short of sadistic, and Heero probably would have sent him through a wall by now, except-

Except. Except that if he blew it here, he'd never be able to go home. If he let his emotions control him, his mission would fail. If he screwed this up, it meant he would have to die.

So he kept to himself as the teacher deducted points from Gryffindor because the Granger girl had outsmarted him. He held his temper in check and cleared out with the rest of the class instead of staying behind to give Snape a taste of his own medicine, like he would have last year. Like he had.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had the feeling he was being watched.

Every time he left the Slytherin common room, he felt eyes on him. But he could never find the mysterious watcher, no matter what he did. It was a strange and frightening experience, to know that someone was there but not be able to find them. He tried not to go anywhere alone, but sometimes he just had to get rid of Crabbe and Goyle. They were mindless, and didn't make very good sounding boards.

He discovered the identity of his stalker not long before Halloween, when he was wandering the halls alone. One minute, the corridor had been empty. The next-

"You're not really hurt, are you?" A soft, rasping voice at his ear whispered, and two cold arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders. "I'd hate to think of you injured, pretty little boy," The voice continued. "I just might have to put you out of your misery."

Draco was so scared he couldn't scream. His legs began to shake, and he almost fainted. Then the stranger gave himself away by bursting into peals of laughter.

"Oh, gods, that was fun!" He exclaimed, let Draco go and stumbling over to the wall, still laughing. "I've wanted to do that for ages!"

Draco turned to glare at the American boy, who stood with his forehead against the wall, holding his sides.

"I suppose you thought it would be funny to frighten me?" He demanded angrily. "I hope you enjoyed it, because when I get through with you, the only thing you'll be able to frighten will be earthworms!"

"You wouldn't really kill me, would you, Malfoy?" The American asked, getting his laughter under control. "Just for a little prank that no one else saw?" He paused for a moment, then continued more seriously, "I've been watching you, you know."

"I guessed," Malfoy said coldly.

"I'm afraid my master would have my hide for my sloppy work, but it was my best. I wanted to see what you were like. Do you believe in destiny?"

"No." Malfoy answered, not sure where this conversation was going. Wherever they were headed, he had a feeling he might not like it.

"I do," the American informed him, turning his penetrating violet gaze on the blond. "I believe that it was destiny that got me here, and I believe it was because I was supposed to meet someone here. I take it you don't believe in love at first sight, either?"

"Of course not," Draco scoffed, liking the drift of this little talk less and less.

"Once again, I do."

The brunette pushed off the wall and strode quickly to where Draco stood. Draco backed up until he hit the wall, then tried to slide sideways. The American didn't give him the chance to escape; he pinned him against the stone with both hands, effectively trapping the taller boy.

"Draco. Old Latin for dragon. Are you a dragon, Malfoy? Or a scared little fire lizard afraid to fly?" The smaller boy leaned closer, standing on his toes, until the two were eye to eye. "Have you ever truly flown, my little dragon? Or do you just run across the beach, pretending to spread your wings?"

Then he was gone, as suddenly as if he were a spirit, leaving Draco alone in the hall for a moment before the first wave from the Great Hall found him.

* * *

_:Something is wrong with the boy:_ Kero said. No need to specify which boy; along with the words came a mental image of Duo Maxwell. The whole Sending was laced with the slightly yellow undertones of concern.

_:Why do you say that:_ Heero asked in the same silent manner, not wanting to call attention to himself.

_:Look at him, Heero. He does not speak so loudly as he did, nor so much. He seems to me to be sad for some reason.:_

_:Kero, don't you dare:_ Heero told her, snapping his book shut and turning to glare at her. _:You will not invade that boy's mind the way you did the last one! You will not blow this for us:_

_:I will not have to invade.:_ Kero informed him curtly, her mindvoice coldly formal. _:He has the Gift, as you do. It will be the same as vocal speech to him, though perhaps a bit more intense. I wish only to find the source of his trouble, not the location of his hideout:_ The kyree surged to her feet and walked briskly to the door of the boys' dormitory, ignoring the looks from the other Gryffindors. _:Do not interfere. This is _my_ mission.:

* * *

_

_End of chapter two, and I'll post these just as soon as I can think of a damned title. Who else liked what Duo did to Malfoy? David's a cool character, although I have no idea where he could be from..._


	3. Confrontations and a Fistfight

To AngelKitty77- Hope for more soon, too.

To Mikol- Yes, scaring the Malfoy was fun. I'll try to move at a comparably fast pace with this story, although I'm still stuck on a few key points, so there may be some small delays.

To Amarin Rose- Yes, this is AU for Gundam Wing. Actually, Heero's mission has absolutely nothing to do with Duo. He's never even met Duo before. Yes, we will eventually find out what Heero did at his old school, which is tied in with his mission, his boss, and why he would die if he failed at Hogwarts. As for what's wrong with Duo... well, you'll just have to read and find out, won't you?

* * *

"Oi. Potter."

Harry, caught off guard by the soft summons from the shadows, almost lost his balance turning to see who it was.

"Oh. Heero. You frightened me." The Boy Who Lived said, pushing his glasses back up his nose and fixing his robes. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I want you to meet me in the library during dinner tonight." The Japanese teen said quietly, his hard blue eyes and steel tone brooking no argument. "I have something to tell you. Something very important."

Before Harry could answer, the other teen was gone, leaving him alone again. With only three minutes to get to class.

* * *

"'Ello, Quatre. Ev'rythin' okay?"

"Yeah…" Quatre said distractedly, most of his mind focused on the ancient book in front of him. "Just doing some reading…"

"Oh. So why's yer pocket glowin'?"

"My pocket's what?" Quatre demanded, looking down to see that his vest pocket was, indeed, glowing faintly blue. "Oh, that. That's just Ciella."

"Ci-what-a?"

"Ciella. My water sprite. Ciella, don't be rude; come out and say hello to David."

"Tha's a'right!" David said quickly, backing up a few steps. "I don' need ta meet 'er! If'n she's a water spri', then I'd best be goin'…"

"What's wrong, David? Ciella's perfectly harmless!"

"Yeah!" A tiny female voice seconded, and a small blue orb zipped out into the open, growing and dissolving into a tiny naked woman small enough to sleep comfortably in Quatre's palm. "I'm harmless! I know the tales you British tell about water sprites, and they're all rubbish! Do I look like I could eat you?"

"N-no, ma'am," David agreed, wide-eyed but no longer trying to escape. "B-but wha'…"

"And as for the lack of water sprites in England, well, we're needed elsewhere! Each and every oasis in Arabia needs its own sprite, or it'll dry out, and then where would the people be? Not to mention the ones that need to guard the royal family, which is probably what all those ugly stories sprang from! We were just doing our jobs, you idiot! And if you ever try to hurt my master, I will personally drown you in the nearest lake!"

"Ciella!" Quatre exclaimed, standing and snatching the sprite out of the air. "Now you're frightening him on purpose! Apologize!"

"Oh, fine." Ciella pouted, wiggling out of the blond's grasp and flitting over to David. "I'm sorry for scaring you; Master Quatre would never let me drown you, even if I wanted to. My only purpose in life is to protect him and keep him happy, so I would never do anything that would upset him. Can you forgive my rudeness?"

"Um… yeah?"

* * *

"I can't imagine what he would want to talk to me about, though." Harry said for about the tenth time in the past two minutes.

"I dunno; might have something to do with the fact you're the _Boy Who Lived_." Ron commented, rolling his eyes. "You're so dense sometimes, Harry."

"Are you sure it's all right we came along?" Hermione interjected, heading off an argument. "I hope he won't think we don't trust him..."

"You shouldn't trust me." Heero said softly, stepping out from between two tall bookcases. "I know I wouldn't."

"Hee-Heero! You frightened me!" Hermione exclaimed, backing discreetly away. "You shouldn't go jumping out of the stacks like that!"

"Keep your voice down." Heero instructed sharply, his eyes flashing. "I wanted to speak to Potter alone, but as long as you're here, you might as well hear, too."

"Hear what?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"This should come as no surprise to at least one of you, but you're in danger."

"I knew it!" Hermione said in a fierce whisper. "I knew it! Didn't I tell you, Harry? Didn't I tell you that just because Voldemort's dead, you're not safe?"

"In danger from whom, Heero?" Harry asked, ignoring Hermione for the time being.

"I don't know yet. But the danger is building day by day, and it's going to come to a head soon. I need you three to be on your toes. Don't take any unnecessary risks, or I will be forced to confine you to your dorm. As of this moment, you have a bodyguard, whether you want one or not. Am I understood?"

* * *

"Say that again, you bastard! I dare you!"

The students of Hogwarts, momentarily between classes, found themselves witnessing something they didn't often see- a fistfight.

"Say it, if you're so damn much better than me!" Duo yelled, launching another punch at Draco, who just barely managed to avoid a solid hit to his skull.

Draco Malfoy was not faring well. He obviously didn't have much experience in physical altercations, if the number of visible injuries he sported was any indication.

"I said," Draco ground out, "if your stupid parents had raised you better-"

Whatever else the Slytherin had said was cut off as a hand connected hard with the side of his face, sending him stumbling into the corridor wall.

"I'll kindly ask you to retract that statement, Mr. Malfoy." Quatre said coldly, the threat of mayhem in his usually gentle aqua eyes. "Before I am forced to make you retract it."

"Why should I?" Draco demanded angrily, feeling his reddened cheek with tentative fingers. "He's nothing but a-"

"Duo," Quatre interrupted, a hint of anger present in his voice, "never knew his parents. He has been an orphan for as long as he can remember, and my close friend for nearly as long, so kindly _retract your statement_ _before I make you!_"

"What's going on over here?" An irate voice demanded. "Why aren't you students in class?" Professor McGonagall in all her English glory strode into a rapidly-emptying hallway, her eyes following any stragglers until the disappeared into their appointed classrooms. "Boys, what _are_ you doing?"

"Giving Mr. Malfoy a lesson in proper manners, Professor," Quatre said evenly, favoring the elderly woman with a small bow. "I'm afraid my fellow student mouthed off about the wrong thing and got me upset."

"Merely upset?" She retorted, eying the damage done to Malfoy with a look of disbelief.

"No, I'm the one who did that." Duo spoke up sullenly. "But maybe now he'll think twice before insulting an orphan's parents." He added, glaring at Draco. "He's lucky _I'm_ the orphan he shot his mouth off to, and not Wufei. 'Fei woulda killed him."

"That, Mr. Maxwell, is beside the point. The three of you, come with me."

* * *

"I wonder where Duo is." Harry remarked, looking up and down the length of Gryffindor table in search of the American. "He's never missed a meal before."

"You mean you don't know?" Ron asked, looking up from his dinner plate. "Duo got himself in trouble for giving Malfoy a richly deserved beating! He and Quatre are still up with Dumbledore, I hear."

"That would explain why Malfoy was in the infirmary this afternoon when I went to see Madame Pomfrey about my headache." Hermione spoke up. "I wondered why he looked the worse for wear."

"I wonder if they'll send him back to America." Harry said, frowning. "Malfoy must have provoked him somehow, and it must have been bad, if Quatre's in trouble, too."

"_Malfoy_ should get expelled." Ron countered. "It's all his fault, I'm sure."

"Damn straight, it is." A new voice said, and an unusually sober Duo dropped into an empty chair. "That bastard spoke ill of my dead; he should be exiled from the damned country. Now talk about something else." His bit said, the brunette snatched a piece of fruit off a platter and bit into it, glaring off into space.

* * *

"Songwind, are you sure about this?" Trowa asked for about the millionth time in the past hour. "You don't have to, you know; I'm sure Professor Hagrid will understand if you back down."

"I'll be fine, _mon ami_." Songwind said with a soft smile, one pale greenish hand patting Trowa's cheek as if he were a small child.

Then again, compared to a 379-year-old TreeKin, maybe he was a child.

"If you're sure…" He said doubtfully as they drew within sight of Hagrid's hut.

"I _am._" She assured him, sounding exasperated. "And after that unfortunate incident Duo told you about the other day, I sincerely do not wish to disappoint Rubeus."

"Okay," Trowa said, finally convinced she really meant to do this. "But if it gets to be too much, tell me."

"_Oui_!" She smiled happily, her dark eyes sparkling. "_Ja'taime_, Trowa."

"_Ja'taime_, Songwind." He replied, returning her smile with one of his own.

The crowd of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws waiting impatiently for the lesson to start took no notice of the two as the threaded their way to the front of the clearing, where Rubeus Hagrid awaited them.

"All righ' there!" The giant teacher called once he spotted them. "All righ', ev'ryone, eye t' the front, please! We got us a couple o' special ladies with us t'day, an' it's best not t' keep 'em waitin'!"

Songwind sighed wistfully, and Trowa smiled. Apparently, the first wizard Songwind had bonded to had spoken with a similar accent, and she very much enjoyed listening to it.

"Go." He whispered, giving her a gentle shove. He was very proud that she'd taken the initiative for once and offered herself as a lesson; when he'd first met her three years ago, she would have rather died than be seen by so many people at once.

Songwind stepped carefully over the uneven ground and turned to face the class as a small blue orb of light zipped over to join her, flying circles around her. Trowa's sharp ears caught the faint sound of giggling.

Songwind took a deep breath and introduced herself in a clear, carrying voice.

"My name is Songwind. I am of a race known as dryads and tree nymphs in this country; in my homeland, I am called TreeKin. I have lived for 379 years, and will continue to live so long as my tree does.

"Were I an ordinary TreeKin, I would not be able to travel so far from my tree. It is by virtue of my bond with a young wizard that I may come to such places as England and not fear the repercussions that would befall my sisters."

She paused to catch the orb of blue light and cupped it in her hands. "And this young one is a water sprite called Ciella. She has traveled here from the deserts of Arabia to serve and protect her master. In order to do so, she had to leave behind her oasis, which will slowly drain and die in her absence, should the safeguards she cast upon leaving fail."

A murmur ran through the students, and Trowa guessed they didn't really know all that much about Elemental sprites.

"Ciella and I shall be the lesson today. Ask of us what you will, and we shall answer as best we can."

Trowa was hard-put to keep from applauding.

* * *

"Boy."

Heero ignored the implied command and kept walking. His detention was over, and he had no intentions whatsoever of staying in this damned dungeon any longer than he had to.

"Answer me when I address you, Mr. Yuy!" Professor Snape snapped, and Heero turned slowly to face him.

"Forgive me, Professor." He said impassively. "I was not away of the fact that my name had been changed to Boy. What do you want?"

"You would do well to watch that tone, boy." Snape said warningly. "I am not one to be trifled with."

"You would do well to watch _yourself_, Professor." Heero disagreed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Should you push me too far, I cannot be held accountable for my actions."

"Are you threatening me?" Snape asked, as if not believing his ears.

"Warning, Severus." Heero corrected. "The name Heero Yuy may mean nothing to you, but perhaps Operation: Meteor might."

Snape was silent for a long moment, and Heero wasn't sure if it was the impolite use of his first name that held his tongue, or if he did indeed know anything about Operation: Meteor.

"You?" The Potions master said finally, staring at Heero. "_You_ were involved in that disaster? You couldn't have possibly been!"

"Wrong. I was more than involved; I was responsible. Now if you'll excuse me, Professor, I have homework to do, and I'm sure you wish to report this to the Headmaster. I will see you tomorrow."

Heero turned and stepped into the dank hallway, closing the classroom door behind him. Perhaps such secrets would have been better left buried, but there was no help for it now. He'd made a choice, and now he would live with it.

Even if it meant dying.

* * *

_I richly deserve to be beaten about the head and shoulders with a frying pan for how long it took me to get this chapter out, but I'd prefer if you used a feather duster. I've been getting quite a few migraines lately._

_Also, corrections on my French are very welcome. I took it four years ago, and I passed with a D-._


	4. Detention and Diplomacy

To Angelkitty77- I'm sorry to hear about your poor feather duster, may it rest in peace. I have been bludgeoned with a pillow, and will now work on the next chapter.

To Amarin Rose- (takes aspirin and endures feather dusting) I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. And as soon as I figure out what Operation: Meteor was, I'll be sure and tell you. I have an inkling of an idea, but it needs building.

To Kira May Maxwell- I'll try, but I can't promise speedy updates. My writing has no real rhythm to it; I write when I'm inspired and break the wall with my head when I'm not.

To Omnicat- The rushing is just an indication of how impatient I was when I first started writing this story. Then again, I don't have the discipline to write out events the way the book is written at all. It would take me well over a year to do that! I'm from America; more specifically, I grew up mostly in New York. We do everything fast there.

* * *

"Headmaster!" Severus exclaimed, bursting through the door of Dumbledore's office. "Headmaster, I must speak with you!"

"Ah, Severus, how good to see you." Dumbledore said, looking up. "Please, have a seat. Headmaster Kushrenada and I were just discussing you."

Headmaster Kushrenada was a tall, distinguished man with ginger hair and crystal blue eyes, and Severus couldn't believe he'd overlooked him.

"So this is the infamous Professor Snape!" Kushrenada exclaimed, jumping to his feet and pumping Severus's hand. "I can't tell you how delighted I am to finally meet you. I hear you've been taking very good care of my pride and joy?"

Snape cast an inquiring look at Dumbledore, who smiled.

"Young Mister Barton, your star pupil." The Headmaster explained helpfully.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Barton. He is indeed a remarkable student. The best I've had in all my years of teaching. He has a head for Potions."

"Always has." Kushrenada agreed, grinning. "That boy can make just about any potion you could name, and probably a few you can't. He so far surpassed our own Potions master that we all but _had_ to send him elsewhere to learn." The ginger-haired man cocked his head slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear, then sighed. "And on that note, I must leave you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Professor; I hope we can talk more at a later date."

And he was gone, leaving not even the echoing crack of Appiration behind.

"Headmaster Kushrenada makes for interesting teatime conversation." Albus commented, motioning for Snape to seat himself. "Now, what matter did you wish to speak with me about?"

* * *

Duo stared at the ceiling of his dorm room for a long time after the lights went out. He was prone to insomnia whenever he had a lot to think about, so he wasn't surprised to find himself still awake well past midnight.

_:Child, you should rest.:_ A slightly exasperated voice scolded him, and he smiled. Kero was probably tucked safely away at the foot of Heero's bed, propped up on a pillow against the footrest.

_:Sorry, Kero; I've got a lot on my mind.:_ Deciding sharing was better than letting it fester, he opened up to her and showed her what was worrying him- the fight with Draco Malfoy, although calling it a fight was a bit off. More like premeditated ass-kicking. _:I can't help but think that's gonna come back and bit me in the ass.:_ He confessed. _:I really don't want to disappoint Sister Helen after she tried so hard to get Father Maxwell to let me come here, but I seem to be screwing up no matter what I do.:_

_:Should repercussions befall you for that incident, _I_ will step forward in your defense. Let them try and shake off my testimony, when the Japanese government in its entirety is behind me. Now sleep, child, before I go over there and _make_ you sleep.:_

Duo smiled despite himself and sent her a wordless ascension, closing his eyes against the dark night.

* * *

In Quatre's mind, the worse thing about his punishment for taking part in Malfoy's beating was the detention.

He didn't mind cleaning, or the damp dungeons, nor that he and Duo served at separate times to make the punishment more severe. In fact, he enjoyed the satisfaction of cleaning the classroom by himself, a fact that would probably give his poor father a fatal heart attack. No, what made the detentions nearly unbearable was Professor Snape.

The man was sour beyond reason, cynical and dead set against enjoyment. From what Quatre could glean, his emotions were as twisted and unreasoning as the serpent that represented his house.

Finally, after four days of being alone in the same room as the Potions master, Quatre couldn't take it anymore.

"Professor," He said quietly, "I need to speak with you."

"I don't believe idle chitchat is part of detention." Snape replied without looking up from his work.

"Professor, please. This is important."

It was the please that decided him, Quatre could tell. He put down his quill and looked up expectantly.

"Professor, I know this is going to sound strange, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave the room."

"Detentions are supervised, Mr. Winner. If that's all you have to say, then I believe we are finished here."

"Professor, I don't think you understand; if you don't leave the room, you will literally drive me insane." Quatre sighed at the skeptic look the teacher shot him and elaborated. "I'll assume you know that there are several types of wandless magic aside from potions and divination. One of those types is Empathy, the ability to sense the emotions of others. Empathy is my primary gift, and your emotions are _not_ pleasant, Professor. If you and I stay in the same room for very much longer, one of two things will happen- either I'll go mad and attempt to kill you, or I will subconsciously use projective Empathy to alter your emotions. Either outcome could turn out very painful for the both of us."

Snape was quiet for a moment, and Quatre thought he might have gotten through. Then the Professor smiled, and his growing hope collapsed in on itself.

"If my emotions are so very poisonous to you, boy, it is indeed a wonder you have survived so long in my class. Or could it be that this empathy of yours is a recent development? Perhaps-"

"Professor, _please_!" Quatre, who had never been ashamed of displaying his emotions openly, wasn't surprised that he'd started crying. "Please. Just…. Don't say anything else. It's bad enough to feel it; I don't need to _hear_ what you think of me as well. I have to go. Have a good evening, Professor."

* * *

Severus stayed at his desk long after Winner had left. The boy had given him something to think about, whether he knew it or not.

Numerous students in the past had pleaded to Empathy in an attempt to skip detentions with him, but they'd all been lacking in one thing- proof. Not that tears would normally be conclusive proof, but they made a solid foundation on which to pile other evidence- the careful management of the other Hufflepuffs and no few Ravenclaws to save his fellow students from the Potions master's wrath; the alternating challenge, submission, and neutrality depending on Snape's own mood and attitude; the avoided fights; the predictions of crying fits and subsequent support; the intervention in more than one brewing fight before the signs were obvious. The list went on. And if Winner truly was an Empath-

_Then I've no idea how he survived so long with his sanity intact._ He sighed and pushed himself to his feet, debating whether it would be wise to seek Winner out or if he should wait until the blond's Potions lesson the next day. Either way had the potential for disaster, but in the end he settled for the latter course of action and went to his rooms, even more unsettled than usual.

This was _not_ his week.

* * *

It was the day after Halloween when Lucius Malfoy descended on Hogwarts, bent on exacting revenge for the beating his son had suffered.

Duo and Quatre were called to the Headmaster's office – Duo from Potions, Quatre from Defense Against the Dark Arts – as was Draco. The three students spent an uncomfortably tense moment in the corridor before being admitted.

Dumbledore introduced his distinguished guest, and was a bit surprised to discover that Lucius and Quatre had already known each other for years, nor was he the only one.

"It must be interesting, the tale of how you two came to meet." Dumbledore remarked somewhat wistfully. "England and Arabia have never been close, I fear, and considering young Quatre's father, a casual run-in doesn't seem very likely."

"Stop stalling, Albus." Lucius snapped. "I want these… these… _vagrants_ punished for what they did!"

"We already are being punished!" Duo protested. "And it's his fault, anyway! If he hadn't-"

Quatre placed a hand on Duo's shoulder, and the brunette subsided, leaving Quatre to try his hand at diplomacy.

"Mr. Malfoy, as Duo said, we have already been assigned appropriate punishments. There is no need for further recriminations. Any punishment given now would be overkill- beyond the crime. Such actions would be very damaging to the reputation of Hogwarts; possibly fatally so. Don't you agree that the school and only the school should handle this matter?"

"No, Mr. Winner, I do not!" Lucius huffed indignantly. "The school has been far too lenient! My family's honor is in question because of this… this…"

"You might be surprised to learn that the attack was not unwarranted." Quatre spoke up, his voice hard as steel. "Your family's honor would not be in question if your son hadn't verbally attacked two late members of the American Wizarding Counsel. The fault is not entirely Draco Malfoy's, but it is partially so. Look to your own before you seek to find faults in others, Mr. Malfoy."

"Watch your tone with me, boy, or I'll-"

"That is enough, Lucius." Dumbledore said quietly, effectively putting an end to the brewing fight. "Punishments have been awarded, and your grievance has been settled. Now, these boys need to return to class, and I'm sure you have pressing matters elsewhere."

* * *

_I'm sick. And I lack internet access._

_Sorry this update took so long. See previous line for my excuses._

_Review._


	5. Dementors

To Mikol- You have got to be my most faithful reviewer. I need to make you an award or something. You mean there's a computer with internet access in your very own house? You lucky little something-or-another! I have to march my happy ass to the next apartment complex over and use the computers in their community center! And I can only go Wednesdays, between 2:30 and 5:00 PM!

* * *

"Sorry I'm late, Professor Lupin, I-" 

"This lesson began ten minutes ago, Potter, so I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Sit down."

Under normal circumstances, Duo would have found the look on Harry Potter's face hilarious, but Professor Snape always seemed to suck the fun out of things.

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Harry asked without moving.

"He says he is feeling too ill to teach today," Snape said with that weird-looking smile of his. "I believe I told you to sit down?"

"What's wrong with him?" Harry ask, and Duo wondered if the kid was _trying_ to get himself detention.

"Nothing life-threatening. Five more points from Gryffindor, and if I have to ask you to sit down again, it will be fifty."

Harry sat, Snape made snide comments about Professor Lupin, and Gryffindor rose up as one to refute him in the voice of Dean Thomas. Duo decided there was definitely something wrong with British people.

"Today," Professor Snape informed them, "we will discuss werewolves."

"But, sir-" Hermione protested, half-rising out of her chair before Duo could restrain her. "Sir, we're not due to start-"

"Hermes, be quiet!" Duo hissed, pulling her back into her seat by the neck of her robes.

"Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice of deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page 394."

Duo did so with a sigh. Apparently, werewolves weren't as big a problem in Great Britain as they were in the good ole US; Duo had learned all he needed to know about werewolves before he even started school.

"Which of you can tell me how to distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked. Duo debated raising his hand, but Hermione beat him to it. Again.

"Anyone?" As usual, Snape was ignoring Hermione. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between-"

"Give it a rest, Professor." Duo heard himself saying. "They don't know, and insulting someone who's not even here to defend himself isn't gonna make them suddenly learn."

He could have hit himself. He almost did, but he had to concentrate on Snape, who was towering and glowering and trying to look intimidating.

"I don't recall giving you permission to speak, Mr. Maxwell." Snape said slowly. "I must say, I am appalled at the lack of discipline in American schools."

"I'm more appalled by the conditions here." Duo informed him, not the least bit off-center from Snape's petty attempt at scaring him. "In America, we don't let psychotic snakes in human skin teach class."

The room fell silent, so quiet that Hermione's little gasp sounded loud as thunder.

"Detention, Maxwell." Snape said, unaware of the fact that he was only making himself look like a fool with his posing and posturing. "See me after class."

"It's a date." Duo told him with a smile. "In the meantime, don't you have a class to teach?"

* * *

Heero wasn't much for watching sports. He much preferred to play, but there were no openings on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Heero didn't like broomsticks besides. 

Probably the whole school had shown up, despite heavy rain and strong winds that could knock you over if you weren't careful. The stands around the Quidditch field were packed with chattering students. Heero normally wasn't comfortable in large crowds, but it was highly unlikely that anyone would try to harm Harry in this mess; they'd probably give the weather first shot at it.

The teams, barely visible from the stands, shook hands and mounted, then kicked off to an inaudible whistle. Someone was probably keeping a running commentary, but he would never make himself heard over the storm, so the game was pretty uneventful for those in the stands. There was a short break when the lightning started, during which Hermione disappear and came back looking very pleased with herself.

It was nearly full night when the dementors showed up.

The roar of storm and crowd alike faded, dwindling to nearly nothing, and the temperature seemed to plummet to below freezing. Heero's vision clouded, grayed, cleared, and clouded again. His head began to ache, and he thought he heard someone talking, far away in the distance.

_"I'm taking Mary for a walk."_

_"Meiran? Meiran! Answer me!"_

_"No! It wasn't supposed to be this way!"_

_"I'll take his name."_

_"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –"_

Who- he didn't recognize her voice, but she was going to die. He wanted – _needed _- to help her… Who was she?

_"Iria, don't go!"_

_"Solo!"_

_"I'm nobody."_

_"Not Harry!"_

_"See, Wufei? I protected your field of flowers."_

_"I love you, Father…"_

_"I'll be Duo now."_

_"Nataku!"_

_"Please… have mercy… have mercy…"_

_:Heero:_ Kero's voice penetrated the overwhelming horror and despair, drowning out the shrill, unfamiliar laughter and the screaming, and darkness claimed him.

* * *

"Lucky the ground was so soft." 

"I thought he was dead for sure."

"But he didn't even break his glasses."

Harry could hear the voices whispering, but they made no sense whatsoever. He didn't have a clue where he was, or how he'd got there, or what he'd been doing before he got there. All he knew was that every inch of him was aching as though it had been beaten.

"That was the scariest thing I've ever seen in my life."

Scariest… the scariest thing… hooded black figures… cold… screaming…

Harry's eyes snapped open. He was lying in the hospital wing. The Gryffindor Quidditch team, spattered with mud from head to foot, was gathered around his bed. Ron and Hermione were also there, looking as though they'd just climbed out of a swimming pool.

"Harry!" said Fred, who looked extremely white underneath the mud. "How're you feeling?"

It was as though Harry's memory was on fast forward. The lightning – the Grim – the Snitch – and the dementors…

"What happened?" he said, sitting up so suddenly they all gasped.

"You fell off," said Fred. "Must've been – what – fifty feet?"

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking.

Hermione made a small, squeaky noise. Her eyes were extremely bloodshot.

"But the match," said Harry. "What happened? Are we doing a replay?"

No one said anything. The horrible truth sank into Harry like a stone.

"We didn't – _lose_?"

"Diggory got the Snitch," said George. "Just after you fell. He didn't realize what had happened. When he looked back and saw you on the ground, he tried to call it off. Wanted a rematch. But they won fair and square… even Wood admits it."

"Where is Wood?" said Harry, suddenly realizing he wasn't there.

"Still in the showers," said Fred. "We think he's trying to drown himself."

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair. Fred grabbed his shoulder and shook it roughly.

"C'mon, Harry, you've never missed the Snitch before."

"There had to be one time you didn't get it," said George.

"It's not over yet," said Fred. "We lost by a hundred points, right? So if Hufflepuff loses to Ravenclaw and we beat Ravenclaw and Slytherin…"

"Hufflepuff'll have to lose by at least two hundred points," said George.

"But if they beat Ravenclaw…"

"No way, Ravenclaw is too good. But if Slytherin loses against Hufflepuff…"

"It all depends on the points – a margin of a hundred either way –"

Harry lay there, not saying a word. They had lost… for the first time ever, he had lost a Quidditch match.

After ten minutes or so, Madam Pomfrey came over to tell the team to leave him in peace.

"We'll come and see you later," Fred told him. "Don't beat yourself up, Harry, you're still the best Seeker we've ever had."

The team trooped out, trailing mud behind them. Madam Pomfrey shut the door behind them, looking disapproving. Ron and Hermione moved nearer to Harry's bed.

"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said in a quaking voice. "I've never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away… He was furious they'd come onto the grounds. We heard him –"

"Then he magicked you all onto stretchers," said Ron. "Walked you up to the school. We –"

"All?" Harry repeated sharply.

"Yes," said Hermione, slightly taken aback. "You and Heero and Quatre all fainted. Duo had some kind of seizure, and Wufei and Trowa were looking pretty shaken when Madam Pomfrey sent them back to their dorms…" She glanced off to the side, at the bed next to Harry's, and he followed her gaze.

Heero looked even worse than Harry felt. He was pale under his tan, sweating and shivering at the same time, and he looked like he was in considerable pain. The blue-eyed kyree lay on the bed with him, and looked up to meet Harry's gaze. She blinked enigmatically, then turned to lay her head on Heero's chest, looking worried.

On Heero's other side, Madam Pomfrey was fussing over Quatre, who had apparently just woken up. The blonde's face was tear-streaked, and he was shaking violently despite protesting that he was fine. Duo wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Ron and Hermione were looking at him so anxiously that Harry quickly cast about for something matter-of-fact to say.

"Did someone get my Nimbus?"

Ron and Hermione looked quickly at each other.

"Er –"

"What?" said Harry, looking from one to the other.

"Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

"And?"

"And it hit – it hit – oh, Harry – it hit the Whomping Willow."

Harry's insides lurched. The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds.

"And?" he said, dreading the answer.

"Well, you know the Whomping Willow," said Ron. "It – it doesn't like being hit."

"Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came around," said Hermione in a very small voice.

Slowly, she reached down for a bag at her feet, turned it upside down, and tipped a dozen bits of splintered wood and twig onto the bed, the only remains of Harry's faithful, finally beaten broomstick.

* * *

_I'll just go ahead and end it where J.K. Rowling did._

_Wow, this was a quick update. Only one week!_

_Review!_


	6. Aftereffects

To Mikol- Umm… you'll find out what happened to Quatre. And where Duo went to. Please, just be patient and let me get there. I'm really sorry about the cliffie; I didn't mean to! Please forgive me! The computer thing is fine; I might wind up volunteering at the community center come summer. I'll try to get this chapter up _real_ soon, okay?

* * *

In the three years Songwind and Trowa had been bonded, they had become fond of each other, with a relationship not unlike that of very close siblings. They had few secrets between them, which was especially odd in Trowa's case. They shared everything: hopes, dreams, fears, worries, quarters, even their deepest, most personal thoughts.

Ever since the Quidditch match, however, Trowa had drawn in on himself, pulling away from even Songwind. He was hurting inside, she could tell, but he refused to speak with her about it, and that made her heart ache. She felt keenly that she had somehow failed him, that he didn't trust her anymore, and that maybe _she_ was the reason he hurt.

The Whomping Willow had no TreeKin of its own, but it listened very well when Songwind found the need to talk overwhelming. High in the Willow's animate branches seemed to be the only place Songwind could find peace, though she wished desperately that she had the courage to make a friend among the students. It would be nice to talk to someone who could talk back.

* * *

Immediately upon entering the Hufflepuff common room, Quatre was mobbed by his worried housemates. They'd been fussing over him almost nonstop since he got back from the infirmary, especially the girls. He took it in stride for the most part; he was used to good-natured fussing, and it did give him time to sit down and talk with the Hufflepuffs. David in particular seemed to enjoy talking, as did a dark-eyed brunette named Tanya and Cedric Diggory, captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Quatre still worried, because of something he'd felt when the dementors had drained him. Along with his own heartache and sorrow, he'd felt anger that bordered on rage, horrible guilt, pain, and overwhelming despair, all of which had come from outside himself. He had his suspicions about where those emotions had come from, but he needed confirmation before he could confidently announce his theory.

* * *

Heero clawed his way to semi-consciousness, not quite awake but no longer truly asleep. In this state, he could observe through Kero, although he couldn't make use of his own five senses yet.

His mind felt bruised, like the overtaxed muscle it was, and it hurt to think, but he did anyway, because thinking was important, it was his training, his defense, and his only viable course of action until he could force himself into full awareness.

_:Heero, you should rest.:_ Kero told him softly, being mindful of the abuse his brain had taken recently. _:I promise, nothing will happen while you sleep, and you'll be the better for it in the morning.:_

_:Kero, I can't.:_ A voice whispered in the back of his mind, too faint to hurt but too loud to ignore, urging him to act, to think, to plan, to do _something_, or he would regret it. The voice drove him out of unawareness, kept him from sleep, pushed him forward long after he knew he should sleep, because inaction was inexcusable, it was unforgivable and impossible besides.

_:You will.:_ Kero promised him, and, despite his best efforts to resist, he sank once again beyond the bounds of consciousness into the seamless black of true sleep.

* * *

"Did you see that?" Hermione asked suddenly. "I thought I saw his eyes open for a moment."

"If they did, he closed them again," Ron said, giving Heero a quick glance. "Here, Kero, the house-elves got this together especially for you."

"We requested it specifically," Harry added as an aside to the kyree.

Kero had moved from Heero's bed to the floor next to it for her meal, and she accorded both boys a gracious nod and fondly licked the back of Hermione's hand before settling down to eat. She ate with the same grace and quiet dignity that defined all her actions, giving the impression of a noble lady at a high court feast.

Halfway through the bowl of raw, spiced meat, Kero flung her head back sharply, twisting like a ferret to place her front paws on Heero's chest. Her eyes became such an intense blue that they seemed to crackle in her narrow face.

Despite Kero's considerable weight and obvious protest, Heero sat up, rubbing his temples with the fingers of one hand. He said something in what was probably Japanese, and Kero reluctantly removed her paws and allowed him to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Once he'd accomplished that, however, she placed her head on his lap and refused to move.

"Stubborn bitch," Heero accused in English, and Hermione gasped. "Granger," He continued without looking away from Kero's face. "Potter, Weasley, thank you for seeing to Kero while I was asleep."

"It… it was no trouble at all, Heero." Hermione assured him while Harry ran off to get Madam Pomfrey. "Are you all right? Half the school's been worried about you, ever since you collapsed, and Professor Lupin said that it was possible for dementors to put someone in a coma for years, and-"

"Thank you, Hermione." Heero said softly, interrupting her with a small, genuine smile. "Thank you for caring."

"I… that is… I mean…" While Hermione blushed, stammered, stuttered, and groped for a coherent and suitable response, Madam Pomfrey arrived, moving like all the hounds of Hell and several aggressive insurance salesmen were after her.

"Mr. Yuy, you're awake, that's good. How do you feel? Headache? Dizziness? Is your stomach upset? Do you remember what happened?"

Heero gave the correct one-word response to each demand: fine, yes, no, no, yes. He accepted a potion for his mild headache and asked for quill and parchment. He needed a few things from Japan, and the sooner he got them, the better.

* * *

The first few times Malfoy and his drones made poor imitations of dementors, Wufei ignored them. The next few times, he told them calmly and reasonably to stop. After that, he found himself forced to take more direct steps.

"Malfoy, have you ever killed a man?" Wufei asked, as casually as if he'd just asked Draco Malfoy what their Charms homework was. "Have you ever held someone dear to you in your arms as they died?"

The Slytherin common room was hushed, most of the students staring at Wufei as if he were an exotic and possibly venomous reptile.

"When you live day and night knowing that you, personally, have taken the life of another human being; when you lie awake at night and replay again and again a death that you should have been able to prevent; when you carry the weight of meaningless loss of life on your conscience, _then_ you may gloat and try to make a mockery of me. Until such time, if I see you dancing around like an idiot again, belittling something you cannot possibly understand, I will reprimand you. And I will not be as gentle as Maxwell."

Since the beating Maxwell had given Malfoy couldn't be described as _gentle_ by any stretch of the imagination, the threat was sufficient to cow Malfoy for the time being. Wufei doubted it would last long.

His bit for the evening said, Wufei stormed to his private dormitory, closing and locking the door, and went directly to bed.

* * *

It was a nervous time to be a Gryffindor, especially during Potions, when Slytherins lost no opportunity to remind Harry of the embarrassing end to the match against Hufflepuff.

That, however, was all they talked about, rather than the utterly humiliating – for Harry – subject of dementors. Whenever it looked like the conversation might be tending in that direction, someone always hurriedly steered it somewhere else.

"Well, Wufei got hit bad by the dementors," Ron whispered over their cauldrons. "You didn't see him, but I did. I bet he's got 'em scared witless to rub his face in it."

"Probably," Harry agreed in a whisper of his own. "Even Duo can't match Wufei in fighting, and the Slytherins all know what _Duo_ can do."

"Speaking of Duo, I wonder where he is." Ron said, glancing almost wistfully at the empty station Duo usually used. "I didn't once see him in the infirmary while we were visiting Heero."

"There's talk that he was taken away," Harry said. "Like maybe Madam Pomfrey can't handle what's wrong with him."

"I don't believe that." Hermione spoke up curtly, pointedly turning her back on the Slytherins. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't send him past the dementors again, not after what they did to him the first time. Seized up and started shaking like a leaf, and next thing I know, he was on the ground, twitching and moaning like he was about to die. I've never been so frightened before in my life, wondering what could possibly be wrong."

"D'you think maybe he's still asleep?" Harry asked. "Something really horrible must have happened to him to make him react like that."

"How do you mean?" Ron asked, but class ended before Harry could answer.

* * *

_Meep._

_All done for chapter 6._

_Review!_


	7. MindHealer

To Mikol- Yeah, but this whole next chapter is about Duo. So there. I'm working my hardest to get this up in a timely fashion, so please don't be upset if it takes a bit. I _really_ need to make you a reward for all the reviewing you do.

To KamiKaze no Kage- Isn't he, though? I think he's cute when he acts all tough like that.

To TanyaPotter- Thank you. I haven't decided if there should be pairings yet. I mean, they're still just kids and all, and I don't think Heero, Wufei, and Trowa are up for that kind of thing just yet. But if you have any suggestions, I'd be happy to consider them.

To Omnicat- Thank you, but I don't think even fleshing it out can turn this fic into a masterpiece.

* * *

"Oi! You, Four-Eyes and fanclub!" Someone with an American accent called from behind Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Heero. "Don't make me chase you, you little brats!"

"I think she might be talking to us," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder.

"Probably," Harry agreed, stopping and turning around as well. "Can we help you?"

"I'm lookin' for an old geezer goes by Dumbledore," The redheaded woman with no manners said gruffly. "You pip-squeaks know where he might be?"

"He's in the infirmary," Heero told her.

"And where is _that_?"

"Go straight that way for about twenty feet," Heero said, pointing off towards the lake. "Then turn around, come back, and ask nicely. I might tell you then."

"Look, kiddo, I'm not in the mood for this." The woman informed him. "I just flew on a Muggle airplane nonstop from Seattle to do what basically amounts to battlefield surgery because this Dumbledore ass let dementors near a school. I have been up for nearly 48 hours, and I haven't had coffee in almost as long, so I wouldn't hesitate to throw your uppity ass into a wall and _force_ the directions out of you."

"Does that mean you're here to help Duo?" Ron asked before Heero chose to demonstrate that he was equally capable of throwing people into walls.

"If that's Maxwell's first name, then yes. Now somebody take me to the infirmary so I can talk to Dumbledore and figure out what the damage is, will you?"

* * *

And so it was that a kyree, four students, and a mysterious American redhead marched into the infirmary, interrupting Professor Dumbledore, who was making his good-byes to Madame Pomfrey.

"Ah, Miss Elfbane, how good of you to join us," Dumbledore said, bowing slightly to the redheaded woman. "I trust the dementors caused you no trouble?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, they did." Miss Elfbane snapped. "I had to use a Patronus on one of the damned things in order to get it to leave me alone. Now, where's my patient?"

"In his own private room, Miss Elfbane," Madame Pomfrey said. "If you'd follow me…"

"Yes, yes, let's get a move on. The kid's not gonna Heal just 'cause I'm here flapping my lips. You-" She added, turning suddenly to Heero, Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You four scram. I don't need shrimps fucking me up right now."

* * *

"Well!" Hermione exclaimed once they'd been shooed out into the hall. "Not even so much as a 'thank you'!"

"What should we do now?" Ron asked.

"Potter goes back to the common room," Heero said decisively. "Granger, take Weasley with you to the library. I want to know everything you can find out about this Elfbane woman. I don't like unknowns in these situations."

"Yes, sir," Ron said, managing a passable salute, and dragged a huffy Hermione with him towards the library.

"I'll meet you in the common room, Potter," Heero said. "I have to go check on something; it won't take more than an hour or two."

"See you there, then," Harry said, heading for the common room.

* * *

There were no classes that day, so Heero had to work a little to find his targets.

He'd been able to identify four of the voices he'd heard when the dementors had interrupted the Quidditch match. One was his; another was that of a girl who'd haunted his dreams for years. Another of the voices he'd pinned down as Chang Wufei's, and another he was positive belonged to Trowa Barton.

He found Chang first; the boy seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time at the groundskeeper's cottage, where Heero checked first.

"Chang," Heero said, calling Wufei's attention away from his flying lizard. "Who are Meiran and Nataku?"

"How do you know those names?" Wufei demanded, and his lizard hissed threateningly.

"_You_ told them to me," Heero said, not the least intimidated or impressed. "During the Quidditch match, after the dementors appeared, I heard you say both those names. Who are they?"

"They were the same person," Wufei said shortly. The lizard landed in his cupped hands, and he drew it against his chest, stroking its head. "My wife. She's been dead for nearly three years now. A stupid, senseless death caused by a stupid, senseless war,"

"I'm sorry to call up unpleasant memories." Heero said sincerely. "I needed to know. Will you come with me to collect Barton? I need to talk with him as well."

* * *

"He looks like shit." Miss Elfbane commented, looking down at the prone form of Duo Maxwell. "Exactly how long did you wait before you decided to contact a mindHealer?"

Madam Pomfrey puffed up indignantly at the implication that she hadn't done the utmost for her patient, but the redhead ignored her.

"Dementors around a school, too. You British people are completely off your rockers." She muttered, placing the tips of her fingers on Duo's forehead. "Okay, Dumbledore, out you go. You, too, Pomfrey; I need complete solitude to deal with this."

* * *

"Why can't they have a card catalogue, like in Muggle libraries?" Ron asked plaintively. "This is going to take forever!"

"Only if you keep whining like that," Hermione countered. "Ah, they mention a Rebbekha Elfbane here. She's a member of AHA – the American Healers' Association. Where's that book on American magical societies?"

Ron handed her the appropriate book and picked up another at random. It was entitled Mending the Mind: Healing and Other Wandless Magic. There was a chance he could find a clue in there.

* * *

Trowa was sitting in a tree on the edge of the Forbidden Forest with Songwind when Heero and Wufei found him. It had been a while since he and Songwind had had some peace, and he resented the interruption.

"Barton, come down here," Heero said. "I don't feel like climbing trees today, and I need to talk to you."

"Can't it wait?" Trowa asked.

"No," Heero said, a note of strong authority in his voice. "Get down here,"

"I'll be right back, Songwind," Trowa said with a sigh. And he would be, no matter how important Heero thought his business was. He dropped gracefully to the ground, landing on his feet in front of Heero. "Well?"

"What did you mean when you said '_I'll take his name,_'? Who's name did you take, and why?"

* * *

"I've found her!" Ron exclaimed, then blushed sheepishly under the glare of a nearby group of Ravenclaws.

"So have I," Hermione said in a hushed voice more appropriate for a library. "It says here she's a mindHealer, and she's well-known in America for pulling minds back from insanity."

"Same here," Ron cleared his throat self-consciously and read "'_Rebbekha Elfbane is best known for her work with those driven insane by magical means. A prime example of her work is the Heinridge family of Canada, who were tortured into insanity by dark wizards in April of 1982. After only three years of Healing and therapy, the entire family is fully recovered and lead normal, happy lives._' D'you think she can help Duo?"

"I'm positive she can," Quatre Winner said, stepping out of the stacks with an apologetic smile. "Forgive me, but I couldn't help but overhear. I assure you, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, if anyone can save Duo's mind at this point, it would be Miss Rebbekha Elfbane. If you only knew the miracles I've seen her work…" The blond trailed off thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Forgive me; I was wondering if perhaps you knew where Heero Yuy is?"

* * *

Duo floated in utter, perfect darkness. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, couldn't feel. His thoughts came slowly, when they came at all, and they were centered around the fact that he was safe here, where no one and nothing could touch him.

_Are you happy here, though?_ A voice asked in the back of his mind, a muted reddish-purple voice much clearer than his own.

_I'm not hurting._ He answered, wondering idly who the voice belonged to.

_You're running away, though._ The voice accused gently. _You're running away from the pain instead of fighting it._

_Some pain can't be fought._ He informed the voice. _There's too much pain to fight, and most of it's not mine._

_Oh?_ The voice sounded both amused and irritated, its color shifting away from purple and towards true red. _Which ones aren't yours, then?_

He showed her, slowly at first, but then with more confidence. He showed her the alien memories, the trauma and sorrow and pain that had been forced into his mind.

And felt those memories disappear.

_The pain is so much less now,_ She told him softly. _Do you think you can fight it now?_

_Maybe…

* * *

_

It was all Rebbekha could do to keep from collapsing once she withdrew from Maxwell's mind. This kind of concentrated speedHealing didn't take long, but it was exhausting, especially with such a stubborn patient.

Already, Maxwell's color was improving, and there was more warmth in his hand than when she'd first taken it in hers. His thoughts were there, whispering at the edges of her mind, no longer hidden behind layers of pain and fear. Given some rest and another session, she'd have him awake and complaining about the infirmary food.

The redhead stood, and nearly lost her balance for a moment in a sudden fit of lightheadedness. She swayed, reaching for the wall to steady herself, while the room spun around her.

"I need some fucking food…" She moaned as the dizzy spell passed.

* * *

It was just about lunchtime when Quatre, Ron, and Hermione met Heero, Wufei, Trowa, and Songwind outside the Gryffindor common room, so they collected Harry and struck out for the Great Hall.

"The way I see it, those of us with certain types of wandless magic were more vulnerable to the dementors," Quatre explained. "For example, I'm an empath, so I was naturally more open to the emotions in the stadium, and Mr. Yuy is a telepath, which makes his vulnerability obvious."

"Hn," Heero agreed, sounding slightly put out. "And Maxwell's a Sender, too,"

"Is he?" Quatre asked, surprised. "If he is, he was a late bloomer. His current comatose state is probably a result of not have a very firm grasp on his gift. Professor Dumbledore was certainly wise to send for Miss Elfbane."

"I've been meaning to ask, Quatre," Hermione began, "how is it that you know-"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my little lame prince," Rebbekha Elfbane said wearily from the foot of the stairs. "I see you've regained the use of your legs."

Quatre, dignified, polite, mature Quatre, all but flew down the stairs and into the mindHealer's arms.

"Did you miss me, princeling?" Rebbekha asked softly, bearing only physical resemblance to the incredibly rude and gruff woman who'd nearly gotten into a fight with Heero. "How are your wounds?"

"Still healing, but much better," Quatre said, giving the redhead a smile that nearly outshone the sun. "Thank you, again, for everything you did for me,"

"Oh, princeling, if you thank me one more time, I shall become quite vexed with you. Who are your friends?"

By then, the rest of the group had reached the floor, and were standing by in quiet bafflement.

"I'm given to understand you've already met Heero Yuy, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger," Quatre told her. "These gentlemen are Chang Wufei and Trowa Barton."

"Nice to meet you, kids." She said, then suddenly swayed violently. "I need to eat something, or I'm gonna faint. Where do they stuff you guys?"

"That would be the Great Hall," Hermione said. "We're headed there ourselves; would you like to accompany us?"

* * *

_Okay, I'm stopping now. Yawn. I really need to finish up some of my stories before I start any more…_


	8. Danger

To TanyaPotter- Thank you.

To KamiKaze no Kage- A Sender is a mindspeaker, a telepath, a thoughtsenser. There are tons of different names for it.

To Mikol- I'm trying to update, really, I am! But if I can't think of anything to write, I can't update… I feel like I'm letting you down now… I'm not worthy of you guys, I'm really not.

* * *

Rebbekha joined the students at their table, since she was pretty damned positive that they'd have questions about Maxwell. That and the table for teachers was all the way on the other side of a Great Hall that certainly lived up to its name. She wasn't sure if she could actually walk that far.

Besides, she was genuinely fond of little Quatre, and she'd missed him.

"I'm dying for some meat," Rebbekha stated, collapsing into an empty seat. "That," She pointed at a nearby platter. "I don't care what animal it was. Gimme,"

Quatre obliged, piling a mountain of used-to-be-an-animal on her plate, and she attacked it with single-minded intensity, oblivious to the stares of nearby students. Healing always made her ravenous.

She slowed down considerably halfway through the pile; enough to make conversation possible, at least.

"Okay, kiddies, before you ask- Maxwell's gonna be fine. Another session'll have him back on his feet in no time." She paused to heap more meat on her plate under Hermione's horrified gaze. "He was suffering a serious case of psionic backlash, and his Gift channel was burnt to a crisp. In laymen's terms, he got so much of other people's suffering and tragedy that it knocked him out, and he won't wake up until the damage is completely Healed. Princeling, do these British heathens have any soda?"

"I'm afraid not," Quatre said apologetically, a split second before a can of Pepsi appeared in Trowa's hand, dripping condensation.

"Here," Trowa said, handing the soda to Rebbekha, who accepted it with a grateful sigh.

"The only thing with more kick to it than carbonated caffeine is unsweetened black coffee," She informed them. "If there's Healing to be done, have soda handy,"

Hermione actually pulled a quill, inkpot, and piece of parchment out of her bag and wrote that down.

"Now that I'm not about to faint, who's got questions?"

"Why do you keep calling Quatre princeling?" Ron asked quickly, before anybody else could even open their mouth.

Rebbekha turned to look at Quatre with an exasperated sigh. "Sometimes, boy," She told him, "your modesty quite overwhelms me. _Why_ is it you refuse to tell people you're the crown prince of Arabia?"

* * *

Everybody in the Great Hall was keeping at least one eye on the odd group at Gryffindor's table, up to and including the teachers. Professor Snape had both eyes pointed in that direction, in fact, and was completely ignoring his lunch. Odd enough that all the exchange students save Maxwell were clustered around Harry Potter and his friends. Odder still that the kyree and the Treekin were obviously part of the conversation. Oddest yet, there was a strange red-haired woman, clearly not a student, right in the middle of the group. She looked familiar to Severus, but he couldn't quite place where he'd seen her before, or when.

The strange woman said something to Winner, and the whole group started with surprise. She smiled and turned away, towards the High Table, and her eyes caught his.

Her smile disappeared as her lips shaped his name, and the memories he'd been trying to uncover came flooding to the surface.

"Rebbekha,"

"Do you know Miss Elfbane, Severus?" Dumbledore asked curiously, startling Snape. "How intriguing,"

"Headmaster, I beg your pardon, but I must leave," Severus said, standing and making a beeline for the nearest door.

* * *

"Well, I'll be damned," Rebbekha breathed. "He actually did it,"

"Who did what?" Quatre asked, no doubt trying to stem the rapid-fire third degree he was getting from his friends.

"Severus," She said, suddenly grinning. "He swore up and down he'd be a teacher one day, but I had my doubts. The old snake actually did it. Good for him! What does he teach?"

"Potions," Trowa said.

"Serves him right," Rebbekha said with a decisive nod. "Now, something supremely interesting is going on, and everybody here but you two-" She jabbed her fork on Ron and Hermione, "-is involved in it. Somebody wanna explain the psy links making a spider web out of this place?"

Heero, the brunette with the bad manners, immediately seized the opening.

"Danger," He said shortly. "We're all in danger, and all from the same person. I just can't figure out whom."

"Why not trace the threads back?" Rebbekha asked, sighing at the bewildered looks she received. "Let me guess; none of you can see the threads, can you?"

Headshakes all around.

"I can sort of feel something attached to me," Quatre spoke up. "But I can't follow it at all. It's too tenuous,"

"Same here," Wufei said. "I know it's there, but I can't find it,"

"Must be frustrating," Rebbekha said sympathetically. "Maxwell could probably do it, but I can't handle another session until tomorrow afternoon at the very earliest." She growled under her breath, running one hand through her thick red hair. "I hate it when a member of the team is down for the count. Hey, kid, you got another soda hidden on you?" She demanded, and Trowa obediently produced another can of Pepsi. "Thanks,

"You guys have class tomorrow, don't you?" She continued after draining half the can. "Well, once you've finished your last class, meet me in the infirmary, will you? And bring some food with you; I won't be quite as hungry as I was today, but Maxwell's gonna need solid food in him."

* * *

The next day – Monday – passed much too slowly for those involved in Rebbekha's scheme. Classes seemed to drag on forever, and they were all distracted for most of them, the exception for everyone being History of Magic.

Poor, departed Professor Binns had taken advantage of Hogwarts's unusual guest. Since Rebbekha Elfbane didn't dare attempt another Healing session before noon at the very earliest, her morning was completely free, and lecturing a few classes wouldn't tax her strength at all. It promised to be as exciting a lesson as the one last year, when Professor Binns had shared the legend of the Chamber of Secrets.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins filed into the classroom, most of them glancing curiously at Rebbekha, who was sitting cross-legged on Professor Binns's desk with her eyes closed. They took their seats and got out their things, waiting for her to move.

"D'you think she's asleep?" Someone whispered from the Slytherin side of the room.

"It's called _meditating_," Rebbekha said, opening her eyes. "If I'm going to try and pound some useful knowledge into your incredibly thick skulls, I need to be at my calmest."

She uncurled her legs and slid off the desk, eying the assembled students.

"Professor Binns has asked me to give you a sample of America's magical history, as a kind of break from your usual lessons. Pay attention, because you'll have a quiz at the end of class."

Hermione was giving Rebbekha her full and undivided attention, quill poised to take any notes necessary.

"Today, you're going to learn about the formation of the American Wizarding Council, America's equivalent of the Ministry of Magic. It's pretty damned recent, as it was officially formed in 1962."

* * *

Wufei glared fiercely out of the corner of his eye at Draco Malfoy, weighing the satisfaction of punching Malfoy's lights out against the consequences of said action.

For the first ten minutes of the lesson, Malfoy and his cohorts had been quiet and somewhat attentive, but that hadn't lasted. Wufei couldn't quite make out what they were whispering, but from the looks they were casting in Miss Elfbane's direction, he could guess. They weren't paying attention, and the constant drone of their conversation was making it hard for Wufei to concentrate.

Miss Elfbane walked towards Malfoy, and Wufei wondered how she would handle it. She stood in front of Malfoy for a moment, waiting for him to notice her, then slammed her hand down on his desk, making half the class jump.

"Are you enjoying your conversation, Blondie?" She asked. "Because the lesson is obviously boring you."

Malfoy opened his mouth, apparently decided against talking back, and closed it.

"I don't think your rich daddy will appreciate it very much if you meet an influential American wizard and insult him by calling him a pure-blood. And do you know _why_ he would find that insulting, Mister Malfoy?" She paused, then flashed a smile that reminded Wufei of a dragon. "The rest of the class knows. Why, Mister, Longbottom?"

"B-because 'pure-blood' is what Americans call wizards who think that their family background is more important than their magical abilities," Neville Longbottom answered, looking pleased that he'd gotten it out with only a single stutter.

"Pay attention from now on, Mister Malfoy; you wouldn't want Mister Longbottom to score better on the quiz than you, right?" She walked away, absently patting Longbottom's head as she passed, and Malfoy remained silent and attentive for the rest of the lesson.

* * *

As soon as classes ended, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Heero, Trowa, Wufei, and Quatre trooped up to the infirmary, not even bothering to drop their bags off in their respective common rooms.

Songwind and Kero were waiting for them, having taken the responsibility of getting food from the kitchens before arriving. They waited as a group in the back of the long room, outside an unobtrusive door.

The door opened after roughly half an hour, discharging a tired, battered-looking Rebbekha Elfbane. The redhead blinked at them, as if wondering what they were doing there. Then she spotted the food, and they ceased to exist to her. She grabbed the laden platter from Songwind with mumbled thanks and immediately went back inside.

"There's food, Maxwell," She said wearily as the group exchanged glances, then followed her. "Oh, good gracious God, there's soda! Somebody loves me!"

Duo smiled wanly, struggling into a sitting position.

"I'm starved," He said plaintively, pouting until Rebbekha deposited the tray on his lap.

There was a few minutes' silence as the two concentrated on eating to the exclusion of all else, then Duo glanced up at his fellow students.

"How come you all look like somebody just came back from the dead?"

* * *

_Wow! Chapter 8 is finished! I got that done relatively fast, didn't I?_

_To all Draco fans, I know I'm picking on him a lot, but he deserves to be picked on. I promise, though, I'm gonna be _real_ nice to him later on, I swear._

_And last but not least… Review!_


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